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I miss him already. So much.

And I’m still waiting to start missing Jake.

Perhaps it’s because I can’t recall anything about my ex-fiancé, not in any significant detail. I can’t remember how he smiled or the distinct shades of his eyes or how his touch felt or how he smelled. It’s like everything that he was in my mind has been flattened and bleached, reduced to a mark so faint it feels like it was left by an apparition, not a warm-bloodied man with whom I shared a bed for seven years.

How can someone leave such a faint imprint on one’s soul after so long while someone else leaves deep, bleeding grooves after only a few weeks?

??

Chapter Fourteen

Liz

In the first week since I last saw Joe, I receive three job offers. Two are with small companies and are entry-level positions that would pay far less than what I am used to. The third is from Qpik and the salary is quite generous, but it’s not for the job I applied for—that one went to someone else. They apparently liked me well enough during the interview that they are offering me a temporary position as a substitute for one of their accountants, who’s pregnant and has to go on bed rest for a few months before she delivers. I would fill in for about six months, until she’s ready to come back. They say there might be an option to turn the job into a permanent position as they have some retirements coming up, but it’s not a guarantee. For the time being, it would be maternity-leave coverage.

I know I should probably accept one of the other two jobs, or else keep interviewing and hold out for something down the road that would pay what I expect.

But I want to work at Qpik. It’s a large company, much bigger than what I’m used to, and I will likely learn a lot. Even six months with them will boost my resumé. But I also want to be close to Roxie. I want to be able to grab coffee or lunch during the day. And despite it being a horrible idea, I want to be close to Joe. It actually scares me when I realize just how much of the job’s appeal hinges on his working there, too. Then I get angry with myself because it is such a Liz thing to do—tether myself to a man whom I barely know just because he likes me a little.

I remember myself at age twenty, when I transferred from community college to St. Cloud State to finish my four-year degree, that first class in a large lecture hall with a steep auditorium filled with wooden seats that snap back loudly when you get up. People sitting in groups, joking, likely knowing each other for years already, and me new to the campus, not knowing anyone. I remember Jake asking if the seat next to me was taken, paying a lot of attention to me. He was so handsome and confident, and I felt so flattered. I remember him taking me to that party, the alcohol in Solo cups and the smell of weed that I couldn’t launder from my shirt for weeks. I remember Jake leaning against the door frame and kissing me, his lips soft and tasting very strongly of alcohol, and how at that moment I felt like I was someone who was cool enough to belong in college, at a frat-house party with a handsome, confident guy.

Those early days of falling for him should make me miss him. But I still don’t. I mostly feel embarrassed at the memory.

I remember small things designed to keep me unsteady, like his not wanting to hold my hand when I asked, or discussing other girls with his friends when I was around. When I brought up my discomfort, he would say I was being too sensitive. At some point I stopped allowing myself to even entertain the idea that he would cheat on me—but now I can, and very likely he did—because he’d told me I imagined things so many times, I no longer believed my own gut.

This humiliating trip down the memory lane is almost enough to make me drop the Qpik job because here I am, making a choice for a guy again, and this time he hasn’t even asked me to.

Perhaps I should check myself into a monastery, so I’d never be this stupid again.

But I have enough presence of mind to remember that Qpik would be a larger and better-known company than I’d ever worked for, the money would be excellent, and even if it never turned into anything permanent, it would still mean much more on my resumé than my old company in St. Cloud.

Qpik’s offer is the only one I’m excited about.

I want to take it. So I do.

When I tell Roxie, she’s ecstatic. She immediately starts planning which days we can hang out at lunch, and all the people she will introduce me to. I gently remind her not to matchmake for me at work. She huffs, but only a little.

I wonder if I should tell Joe. I figure I could wait until I start. But maybe it would be a good thing to contact him before I accidentally run into him.

More than a tiny part of me rejoices that I have a good reason to text him.

Another part of me scolds me for disrupting his life after I sent him packing.

Liz: Hey there

Just touching base, making sure you’re okay

Also letting you know that I got a job at Qpik

Will be starting on Monday

Just so there are no surprises at the cafeteria or whatever

I really hope you’re doing okay

He doesn’t even read my text all day. He does in the evening and he responds.

Joe: Hey